Lies go great with apple cider
by bumgloves
Summary: Graham makes a bet with Regina, saying he doesn't think she would be able to get in Emma's pants, and Regina is glad to prove him wrong. Little does she know that she would actually start to fall in love with this charming blonde woman.


**Title: **Lies go great with apple cider

**Author: **bumgloves (kiszaa on tumblr)

**Summary:** Graham makes a bet with Regina, saying he doesn't think she would be able to get in Emma's pants, and Regina is glad to prove him wrong. Little does she know that she would actually start to fall in love with this charming blonde woman.

(Based on: post/52911015614/swan-queen-au-the-romantic-comedy -plot)

**Characters: **Regina Mills, Emma Swan, Sheriff Graham, Mary Margaret Blanchard.

**Other notes:** The time is set to around season 1. But it's completely AU, for example Henry isn't in this story, and Graham has a different sexuality, and etc.

**Rating: **Rated T.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters. No profit is recieved.

**Author's note:** I made this au gifset of Swan Queen as a romantic comedy on tumblr, and I noticed several people mentioned that they'd want it as a fic. So I thought; "Hmm, why not give it a go?" And here we are! Please note that I know I'm not the most skilled writer out there, I'm simply doing this for funz :) I don't know how many chapters there will be yet, it's a work in progress.

**1. The Bet**

_ I smell lasagna,_ a common sentence heard in the almighty mansion of Regina Mills; the proud mayor of Storybrooke, Maine. This time the sentence was joyfully yelled from the entrance hall by a certain smug sheriff named Graham, also known to the town as the mayor's flamboyant friend.  
Placing a bottle of red wine on the fifth step of the staircase, Graham unzipped his black leather jacket and flung it over the end of the staircase railing.  
Firm _clicks_ and _clacks_ echoed towards the hallway, only to reveal the finely timed greeting from the mansions owner.  
"Graham!" Regina smiled, showing off her pearly whites, fit to be the ones of a Stepford wife.  
"Regina," Graham's voice rang in his proud Irish accent. He playfully picked up the wine bottle and proceeded to give his friend a peck on each cheek. "I brought wine."  
"That's my boy," Regina replied, snatching the bottle from his hand and started walking towards the kitchen.

"I have to give it to you Graham; you're actually on time today," Regina said as she put on a checked green oven mitt and placed herself in front of the stove.  
"What can I say; I like surprising people," he smiled. "Plus it didn't hurt my time schedule that the new assisting sheriff agreed to take care of the town drunks."  
"My my, a new sheriff? Is he a foul competition or a handsome new obsession of yours?" Regina's raspy voice rang into the stove.  
"Actually; neither," Graham sighed. "Her name is Emma Swan; she's the daughter of that loony Mary Margaret that keeps talking to birds."  
"Ugh, please don't tell me her daughter talks to birds as well," Regina placed the lasagna bowl on top of the stove and started slicing it up.  
"Not that I know of," Graham chuckled and started pouring wine into two tall glasses on the kitchen counter.  
"Wait, Mary Margaret has a daughter?" Regina commented as they moved into the dining room.

"It's a miracle that I haven't gotten sick of lasagna yet," Graham said; slouched on the living room couch. "Do you even know how to make anything else?"  
"Hey, I've made plenty of other dishes," Regina defended herself, pointing her index finger towards him while walking up to the table with a new wine bottle.  
"Name three."  
Regina paused, licking her lips and trying to jog her own memory. "Spaghetti Bolognese!" she said eagerly.  
"Well that leaves two…" Graham straightened himself up and grabbed the wine bottle from the dwelling mayor.  
"Fish! I made us a fish dinner once," her index finger making swinging motions in the air, portraying her inner enthusiastic self.  
"Yes, but that was horrible," Grahams brows shot up, wrinkling his forehead. "That doesn't even count."  
"Oh shut up, it wasn't that bad."  
"That bad? It was like chewing on an old shoe sole soaked in greasy fish oil."  
"Well, at least there was _some_ fish taste to it," Regina gently nudged Graham's shoulder and sat herself down next to him.

"So how is the mayor business coming along?" Graham asked unenthusiastically.  
Regina sent him a shifty look. "Mayor business?"  
"You know what I mean. Work, papers, making up laws," Grahams knees almost touched the table, his back relaxing more on the bottom half of the soft fabric couch than on the back. He knew if he flung his feet up on the table, Regina would send him an murderous gaze which he found halfway frightening after consuming a fair amount of wine, so her let them rest on the floor.  
"It's excruciatingly boring," she sighed. Her legs were placed on her side whilst leaning her right arm on the head of the couch.  
"Boring?" Graham gasped. "How ever could you find such exciting paperwork boring?" If sarcasm had a smell; this is where it would start to reek. "Well if it makes you feel any better; there's not really that much action going on at the sheriff's station either."  
"It does actually mean that my town is relatively safe, so yes," Regina chuckled. Graham simply smirked at her and downed what was left in his glass.  
"Tell me more about this new sheriff," Regina yawned.  
"Why, do you have a fetish for daughters of crazy people?"  
"We don't have anything else more interesting to talk about now, do we?"  
"True… Well, she's blonde. Uhm, she's a sheriff? I haven't really talked to her that much; she's just been here a couple of weeks or something. But she seems okay," Graham yawned as well. The clock was far over midnight and the only sound filling up the emptiness of the mansion were a few raindrops hitting the ceiling.  
"How old is she?" Regina asked.  
"Twenty-nine," Graham replied quickly.  
"Wait… Twenty-nine? How old does that make Mary Margaret?"  
"Oh man, she has to be at least… forty-something!"  
"I refuse to believe that woman is a day over thirty."  
"Let's call her up and ask her."  
Regina cocked her left eyebrow in reply.  
"Oh come on! Maybe she could talk to the birds that keep nesting in your apple tree, perhaps scare them away a bit."  
"I would rather have rotten apples."  
Graham licked his lips slowly, lowering his brows. "Okay, why don't we ask Emma then."  
Regina looked at him, blinking a couple of times.  
"Her daughter…"  
"Oh, right. Fine, ask her at work tomorrow then."  
Graham looked at her, trying to read her slightly dead facial expression. "No," he smiled. "I say _you_ ask her."  
Regina leaned her head slightly to the side. "I have no intentions of even meeting this woman, dear. You see her every day."  
"You need to make new friends, Regina. I need some breaks from lasagna every once in a while," Graham said, pouting his mouth.  
"Ha-ha," Regina replied sarcastically.  
Graham's entire mood jumped from groggy to excited, as he hopped up on his feet. "I," he said formally, pointing at himself. "Challenge _you_," he continued, pointing at his friend. "To get in Emma's pants."  
Regina spit the wine she had just sipped back into her glass. "What on earth are you rambling about?"  
"I'm serious!"  
"You're heavily intoxicated," Regina placed her glass on the table.  
"No, no, no. Listen; you're bored, you need a little rescuing from your boring paper work. You could use a bit of a challenge in your day!"  
"First of all," Regina started, straightening herself up, Graham rolling his eyes. "I don't need any _rescuing_ from my paper work, second of all I don't even know what she looks like or if she's a complete lunatic like her mother, third of all… Wait, did you say _a bit of a challenge?_"  
Graham grinned. "She's a pretty woman. Heck, I'd ask her out myself if it wasn't for the fact that she has a vagina."  
Regina laughed shortly. "Graham, this is absurd. And it doesn't make any sense."  
"Let's make a bet!" he said dramatically, acting like he hadn't heard what she had just said.  
Regina sighed. "I'm listening."  
"I bet that you can't get in to Emma's pants no matter how hard you try."  
Regina let an annoyed grunt escape her lips. "So what do I get if I _do_ get in her pants?" the last phrase felt foreign on the mayor's lips.  
"Hopefully not an STD," Graham chuckled. "Let's rather say it like this; if you lose… you have to change the nameplate on your office door from _Mayor Mills_ to _Swag Mills_. And if I lose, I'll have to… paint my police car pink."  
Regina raised her brows. "That is," she cleared her throat, "quite a bet."  
"What do you say, _Swag Mills?_" Graham's face lit up even more.  
Regina smiled but looked away out into the room, trying to sense how intoxicated she really was. "Introduce me to her tomorrow."


End file.
